Mysterious Connections ✔️

The Vacation

The next day was uneventful, but Hotch got the best night's sleep in a while. The early morning of the second day his phone rang. His eyes opened slightly to read the time, 3 a.m. He reached over to his phone and hit the answer button before laying it on his ear.

"Hotch."

"It's the devil's hour and the devil is calling." Her sultry voice traveled into his ear and sent a delicious chill into his body. He sat up quickly, fumbling with the phone.

"Adrielle?" He asked, practically a death grip on the phone.

"You'll find the assignment under the highway bridge. His right hand is pointing to a black box, about 100 paces from the body. It's a gift from me to you. Don't worry, it isn't rigged to blow. May our paths never cross again, Agent."

In the next few hours the team and the police department were at Cunningham's body. He looked down at the unsub, smiling to himself slightly. She had done a number on him. He separated from the team and followed the dead bodies finger and walked about 100 paces. As promised, a lone black box lay against the brush of a tree.

When he opened the box, he was surprised to find a tape recorder. He looked around to make sure no one was around before pressing play.

"Alright, I want it on the record that you know you're being recorded and have agreed to this interview on the basis of me not cutting open your stomach, right?" Adrielle's voice came through the speaker. A whimper responded to her, followed by a harsh slap and a yelp.

"The law states that you need to give verbal consent, so come on."

"Yes! Yes I agreed to this."

"Amazing, let's start. What was your childhood like?" Hotch paused the tape and placed it back in the box. A weird feeling bloomed in his chest. Did she do this for him? He remembered back to their conversation, telling her that they didn't know much about him. Was she extending an olive branch of friendship, of trust?

The prosecution of Roger Cunningham went smoothly, given all the evidence they had against him. Despite him being dead, Hotch felt relief knowing they will never have to deal with him again. He thought back to Adrielle and tried to imagine her killing him, but he quickly shook this thought away.

It would be 4 months until Aaron would hear from Adrielle again. He was in his office late at night, the rest of the office long since abandoned. His hand cramped at the amount of writing he had been doing. I just needed to finish this report, he told himself, then I can go home. His phone rang and he picked it up absentmindedly, holding it between his shoulder and his ear as he felt around the desk for his sticky notes.

"Hotch."

"Hello Agent." Adrielle's sultry voice carried through the phone. His pen stilled in midair for a brief second before he stood up and instinctively fixed his tie, his grip returning to the phone.

"Adrielle."

"Oh so you're alone? Good."

He chilled at the words, wondering what she meant. He looked around the bullpen through his window, could she somehow make her way in? He shook his head, no of course not, he teased himself for being paranoid.

"Good? Why is that good?"

"I have an assignment I want to give you." He fixed his coat jacket as he listened to her, listened to the way her low voice traveled into his mind and nested there.

"You've seen the news about Wyoming, no?"

"Yes. The little boys have gone missing."

"I am categorically denying that I am involved, but I have heard the case is quite confusing to the police."

"Will I see you there?"

The line was silent for a moment as Hotch held his breath. He was dying to see her again. He had made a recording of the Cunningham Tape and listened to her parts over and over again. He committed to memory every word she spoke, the way she spoke it. He was convinced that even if he never saw her again, he would always know her.

"No."

His shoulders slumped as he sat back down. Aaron felt upset and couldn't pinpoint why. Was it because she could solve the case faster, without having to jump through the many legal hoops? Because of her intelligence?

"I have to deny," she started again, "that I have any involvement. But, if you see me there, it is because I am on vacation. Nothing more."

He perked up at this thought and found himself smiling.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Agent. I hope I won't see you in Wyoming tomorrow." He could practically hear her smiling through the phone.

"I hope I don't see you tomorrow either, Adrielle."

After spending all night getting permission to join the case and informing the team, he was on a flight to Wyoming. Hotch's leg kept on bouncing throughout, his phone fidgeting in his hand. His stomach was in knots and he felt nervous. There was no doubt about it, Hotch thought, Adrielle scares me. I wouldn't be thinking like this for any other reason.

Throughout the whole day of investigating, Hotch kept near his phone, and all day it wouldn't ring. They had gone to look at the latest victim and the ones before, gone to the parents of the victims and spent a lot of the day in the police office.

The team was in a good mood, partly because Hotch was. He bought them all coffee, gave them all their preferred roles and was overall playful. Despite the setting, each team felt fulfilled and energized to work. By the end of the work day, Hotch felt a little defeated, and felt juvenile. Waiting by a phone all day for a call from a girl? Pathetic.

When he got to his hotel room, he immediately loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt halfway, not bothering to take it off all the way. The two tie strands dangled from his neck as he leaned over the sink to wash his face. As he dried off, a knock drew his attention. He went over and opened it, still toweling off his face.

"Good evening, Agent."

Adrielle stood in her all black gear, waiting to be invited in. She studied the way he stared at her before quickly hiding the towel behind his back.

"A-Adrielle. Hello, I thought you were going to call." He said. She looked into his hotel room, prompting him to invite her in.

The room wasn't anything special, and she made sure to note this. She drew a finger along the cabinet and examined it, rubbing at the dust that had accumulated. Adrielle walked around the room slowly.

"Shabby room, you think the FBI would spend a bit more money on their unit chief." Her nimble hands opened the window and she leaned out, observing the fire escape and the street below.

"Yes, well. I'm rarely here, so there's no need to buy an expensive room." He waited for a moment, watching her actions before speaking again "How did you know where I was?"

"I told you, I'm here on vacation. Maybe I just saw you in the lobby and followed you." Her feet twisted in spot, turning her towards him. She thought of the red dots on her phone and suppressed a smile.

"Tell me, what do you think of the assignment so far?"

"Well, the unsub is male, has probably done a prior offence before and has access to these children, so it's someone kids trust. Perhaps a teacher, delivery man or a police officer."

Adrielle hummed a tone of disagreement. She walked over to the bed, feeling the springs with her hand before hopping on and laying down.

"You disagree with my assessment?"

"Tell me about how the bodies were disposed of." Her eyes looked up at the ceiling, her arms behind her head. She looked relaxed despite the subject matter.

It was always a demand with Adrielle. "Tell me" this or "Tell me" that. It was never a question, she always expected an answer. It was one of the things that made Aaron so drawn to her.

"They were posed, showing remorse, but the kill was efficient."

"And clean."

"I'm sorry?"

Adrielle sat up on the bed, leaning on her knees as she stared at Hotch. He fidgeted under her gaze.

"It was a clean kill, the method and the disposal of the body. There wouldn't have been any blood at the time of death."

A beat of silence passed between the two as Adrielle waited for Aaron to catch up. Realization dawned on him before he responded.

"There you go."

"You think the unsub is a woman?"

"Doesn't it fit your profile more? What changes when you reapply what you know to a woman?" She walked over to him and invaded his senses. He watched as she reached up to rebutton his shirt. Adrielle didn't say anything as she listened, picking up the door closing at the end of the hall and footsteps approaching. She dropped her hands and moved to the window nonchalantly.

Aaron was about to speak, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door. He gave a worried glance at Adrielle, who seemed unbothered and continued looking out the window. He could feel a blush rise up on his neck at the idea of being caught alone with a woman, but hurried to the door. Hotch opened it just slightly, enough for just his face to be seen. He was greeted by Morgan on the other side, who sent him a curious glance.

"Hey man, I just wanted to talk to you about the case. Do you have company?" Morgan asked, trying to peer around his boss and look into the room.

"Uh, no. No I don't-" He looked over his shoulder back into his room, and was surprised when she was nowhere to be seen. His grip on the door relaxed and Morgan made his way into the room, shrugging at the emptiness. Hotch looked around the room and was greeted by the same silence he had when he first came. He took the few steps to the window and leaned out, trying to find her in the street below. He looked down the street at the passerbyers, but none looked like her. A worried feeling occupied his chest.

Aaron's attention was captured by a flash in the dark alley across the street. No street lights dared to creep into this space, not wanting to illuminate all the dirty deals that take place nightly. A mirror flashed the street lamps' reflection back at Aaron, and it took him a moment to recognize the Morse Code.

A.H

When they finished the case and put the woman in jail, he thought he would see her again. What did he expect? He thought she would at least come and congratulate herself on being right, perhaps flaunt that her skills are better then the FBI's. But she was nowhere to be seen.